Not Exactly Rapunzel
by Meadowlark
Summary: Spot finds himself on quite the adventure when he takes on the task of helping a damsel-in-distress who isn't in the habit of waiting for the assistance of a Prince Charming. Please R/R!
1. Boy Meets Uhh?

Chapter 1 Boy Meets...Uhh...  
  
Spot Conlon was not having what one may call a good day. The leader of the Brooklyn Newsies had sold only about half of his newspapers and in spite of his years of experience, it looked like he probably wouldn't be selling many more. Never the less, he kept at it. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" He shouted. "Woman gives birth to- Oof!" Spot felt the air rush from his lungs as a frantic figure ran right into him. He glared, strongly considering whether or not to give this person a black eye. "Who do ya think ya are? You got some noive runnin' into me like dat! I oughta soak ya, ya lously bum!"  
  
The other kid looked to the ground, their face already hidden for the most part beneath a hat that was pulled down low over their eyes. This unnerved Spot further, and he reached for the hat. The person pulled back, reaching up to hold the hat in place. Spot frowned, but didn't press further, curiosity starting to get the better of him. From what Spot could see, it appeared to be a boy near his own age of sixteen or seventeen, though with a build that could almost be considered petite.  
  
The kid began looking around nervously as shouts sounded over the bustle of the New York City streets. Spot glanced two uniformed men heading their way, and didn't wait around long enough to see who they were after. Instinctively, he grabbed the other kid's arm and pulled him through the maze of streets. Finally, he ducked into an alley, the other kid close behind..  
  
Angrily, he whirled around, ready to give this boy a piece of his mind, but what he saw left him standing there as open-mouthed as a codfish. In front of him was not a teenage boy, as he had originally assumed, but rather a teenage girl who was not lacking in attractive qualities.  
  
"You're a--! I mean, how'd ya--? You're a goil!" He finally stammered.  
  
The girl looked down, seeing that her hat was lying on the ground at her feet. Her eyes went wide with panic for a moment, but then she looked him right in the eye; her hands on her hips. "Yeah. So what?"  
  
Spot removed his own cap and ran a hand through his light brown hair. He thought back, trying to recall what all he had said to her. To his dismay, he realized that he had threatened to "soak her". (Basically to beat her up for those who may not be fluent in NEWSIES slang.) He met the girl's gaze, but seemed a bit sheepish--not like himself at all!  
  
Reminding himself that he was the Spot Conlon; the toughest, most famous newsie of all time, he smiled at her. "So, what's ya name, Doll?"  
  
"Doll?" She scoffed, crinkling her nose in distaste. "I ain't nobody's doll." She leaned down, picking up her cap and started tucking her hair up underneath it again.  
  
Spot raised an eyebrow. "What are ya doin' that for anyways?"  
  
The girl narrowed her eyes defensively. " 'Cause I feel like it."  
  
Poor Spot had numerous questions racing through his mind by this point. He wondered where she had come from Who exactly was she? Perhaps most importantly, what was it that she was hiding? Spot knew that she wasn't so defensive for no reason. You couldn't be on the streets for as long as Spot had and not know when someone was trying to hide something big. The city was full of runaways and orphans, but Spot found himself thinking of taking this one under his wing.  
  
He extended a hand to her, saying, "I'm Spot Conlon. What can I call you?"  
  
She brushed past him without so much as a glance. Her hair was swept up into the cap again, and she made a her way toward the street. "You can call me outta here." She muttered.  
  
Spot caught her by the arm. "C'mon now. If its da bulls you'se afraid of, I can help ya. Nobody knows da streets of New Yawk like me an' me boys." She scowled as she tried to pull out of his grasp, but he had a good hold. Eventually, she stopped struggling.  
  
"Look. It isn't da bulls." She tilted her head up slightly to look at him from beneath the brim of her hat, and Spot felt lost in the depths of big, velvety violet eyes behind long, dark lashes. She studied him a moment before hesitantly speaking again. "I'm Philippa--Phil for short."  
  
His mouth curved upward into that charismatic 'Spot Conlon' grin as he released her arm. "Now dat's more like it!" Philippa was looking pretty uneasy, but she made no attempt to leave until Spot moved toward the busy street just beyond the alleyway. "Da bulls woulda given up by now." He hesitated before asking, "So..why was dey afta ya?"  
  
Philippa reached into the pocket of the trousers she was wearing to reveal an apple. She gave a little shrug, casually commenting, "I was hungry." She followed Spot onto the street.  
  
For a moment, Spot was disoriented. Everything was suddenly unfamiliar. Then, he remembered that he wasn't on his home turf of Brooklyn, because he had decided he wanted to visit with Jack and his newsies after he had finished selling papes. He hadn't been around for a few weeks and had missed hanging around Tibby's with some of his Manhattan buddies.  
  
His companion started to bring the apple to her mouth, and Spot knew that it had probably been a few days since she had eaten. Suddenly, her hand froze a few inches from her face, her eyes transfixed on something a couple of yards away. Following her gaze, Spot saw a young child, no more than six years in age. The little boy was eyeing the apple enviously. The newsie watched as Philippa tossed the apple up, catching it in her opposite hand. She faltered less than a second before walking to the child and offering the fruit. "Here. Take it."  
  
The boy did so delightedly, not waiting for Phil to walk away before biting into the smooth, red skin of the apple. She was soon standing next to Spot again, and he looked at her, obviously surprised by this sudden show of tenderness. Phil smiled; a somewhat sad smile. "He needed it more'n I did. Besides, he reminds me a' somebody."  
  
Spot was about to ask her who the kid reminded her of but thought better of it. It wouldn't do him any good to pry. He patted his pockets, listening to the jingling of what little money he had made that day. "How's 'bout I take ya to Tibby's? My treat. Its a real nice place, an' da food ain't too bad neither."  
  
Phil was a prideful thing and would have protested were it not for the growling of her stomach. So, she nodded consent as once again she followed his lead. The three blocks or so that it took to reach Tibby's were walked in near silence, neither of them knowing what to say to the other. Spot eventually resorted to whistling to the tune of "My Lovey Dovey Baby". Finally, they reached Tibby's, and with a mischievious glint in his cyan eyes, Spot snatched the cap from Phil's head. The girl's violet eyes flashed angrily, seeming to darken into a gray like the sea after a storm.  
  
"Give that back." She snapped as chestnut colored hair tumbled down to the middle of her back.  
  
"Calm down, Phil." Spot laughed at first, but his tone quickly turned serious when he saw that it truly had upset her. "Alright. Now, I dun' know what it is that's got ya all noivious, or why you'se tryin' ta make yaself look like a boy. I mean, I'se sure ya got your reasons an' all, but here at Tibby's it'll just be me an' some of me best pals. I'll make sure that ya stay safe."  
  
There was something about Spot that made Phil believe that he was sincere and that he would do what he could to ensure her safety. He had already saved her from the police after all. Still a bit reluctant, she let Spot keep her cap as they headed into the restuarant. 


	2. At Tibby's

Chapter 2 At Tibby's  
  
When the hour got to be too late to be out selling papers, Jack and his newsies could typically be found at Tibby's. This night was no exception. When Spot and Phil entered, they found the room filled with boys talking and joking amongst themselves. Spot approached the middle of the room, but Phil stayed back, still wary. She took the time to look around the establishment. It was a nice little diner with an almost homey atmoshephere. The owner's must have been pretty nice folks to allow all of the newsies to congregate there. Several restuarants didn't allow "street rats" in their establishments, because they felt it was bad for business.  
  
"Look at dis! Spot's here!" One boy, who stood supported by a single wooden crutch, announced. The room became quiet for a a long moment, the boys wondering if Spot was here with good or bad tidings. Spot Conlon had the tendency to make some of the newsies a bit "noivous" sometimes, but upon seeing a disarming grin brightening his expression, the other boys were soon greeting him with cheers and loud calls of welcome.  
  
Phil began to think she was quite forgotten as she watched Spot laugh and joke around a bit with his friends, but in truth, Spot was watching her closely. "Fellas, I'se got someone I'd like yas ta meet." He addressed his comrades when he'd taken time to greet them properly. He waited until the boys were silent before continuing. "I'd like yas to meet my new friend, Phil."  
  
The group all looked around the room, expecting to see one of Spot's usual new Brooklyn buddies. They knew that if Spot was feeling charitable, he sometimes took a boy under his wing and taught them the ropes of 'carrying the banner'. They began looking at each other questioningly, beginning to wonder if Spot had lost his marbles, but none of them daring to ask as much aloud. Finally, Mush spoke up. "Uh...Where is he?"  
  
Spot reached over, hitting Mush upside the head. "Not he, ya numb skull." He walked to Philippa, took her by the arm, and pretty much dragged her into the midst of the group. "This is Phil."  
  
There were low murmurs from the group, too difficult to decipher. They all eyed her closely. The girl's face was slightly smudged with dirt and the boy's shirt and suspendered trousers were all too big for her slender frame, but she was undeniably pretty in a vivid, odd sort of way. She had hair that was a glossy chestnut color and fell down to the middle of her back. Beneath dark brows were those big, violet eyes framed behind incredibly long lashes. Already, many of the young men found themselves bewitched by those eyes of hers. Her crooked mouth was as red as a rose, and for an instant, it formed into a wonderful, crooked smile over small, straight, white teeth.  
  
Philippa's head was practically spinning when Spot began the introductions. Apparently, he thought she should meet each and every one of the Manhatton Newsies. "This is Mush...Racetrack...Specs...Kid Blink...Skittery...Snipeshooter...Boots...Crutchy..." The boy from Brooklyn prattled on. Phil just hoped that she wasn't expected to remember all of their names. She told herself that it didn't matter anyway. She figured that she'd get a nice meal and would be on her way. She was brought back from her thoughts as Spot finished up the seemingly endless introductions with, "And dis here is Jacky-Boy."  
  
Phil found herself struggling to stifle a laugh. "Jacky-Boy?" Her eyebrows arched questioningly.  
  
Jack grinned good-naturedly. "A name only me closest pals can get away with callin' me."  
  
Race surprised Phil by taking her hand and pressing it to his lips, in imitation of the ritzy gentlemen he had often seen at the racetrack. "My my. What a lovely lady we have with is this evenin'."  
  
Philippa casually pulled her hand away, laughing in what seemed to be a blend of embarrassment and nervousness. "I know you ain't talking about me." Race began to reply, but Spot intervened by asking Phil if she was ready to get something to eat. The girl nodded, and he found them a table slightly apart from the others.  
  
So what do ya think about Jack's newsies?" Spot asked, as he eyed the menu.  
  
"They'se seem alright." As she spoke, Spot peered at her from over the top of his menu. There was something unnatural about her speech. It seemed to Spot almost as if she were trying too deliberately to talk like a kid who'd been living on the streets. This succeeded only in heightening his curiousity.  
  
It was at about that time when a waiter approached their table. He was an older gentleman with gentle eyes and a kind smile. "Hello Spot. Its been a while since I've seen you around here." He turned, bobbing his head in greeting to Philippa briefly before focusing once more on Spot. "What can I get for you and your lady friend?" As he referred to Philippa as Spot's 'lady friend', he gave the newsie a consiritorial wink which almost caused the reknowned Spot Conlon to blush.  
  
Spot was not the only one who saw the wink, however, and Phil began to realize that everyone had assumed that she was Spot's girl. She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes flashing angrily, but Spot, recognizing the look as one similar to one he himself got when getting ready to let someone have it, shot her a glance that made her think again. Instead, she ordered a roast beef sandwich and a soda. Spot placed his own order, and the waiter went off to insure that it got prepared.  
  
Philippa's gaze was piercing as she glared at the boy sitting across from her. "Now everyone thinks that--"  
  
"Now listen here. Ya can't go around insulting me chums." Spot interjected. " 'Sides, nobody thinks nothin'." Spot's frowned, glancing at his reflection in the window to his left. He wondered if a girl being involved with him was truly as awful as she made it seem. (AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, yes. I know. She's being downright foolish, but Phil is a stubborn little thing. She's yet to realize the greatness that is Spot Conlon.)  
  
Phil leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms over her chest, sulkily. They sat in silence until their food arrived. Fortunately, the waiter was prompt and didn't take long to return. He sat their food in front of them, and for a couple of minutes, Phil just sat there looking at the sandwich, as if waiting for it to disappear. Finally, she picked it up and scarfed it down. Spot, as he had pointed out to his friends once or twice before, had "a brain and more than just half of one." He had more sense than to stare at her less-than-ladylike table manners. He knew firsthand how it was to go for days with little or no food. He began eating his own sandwich.  
  
After a while, he looked across at Phil. "Good?' He asked, the word muffled from the bite he'd just taken from his sandwich.  
  
Phil swallowed the remainder of her food and grinned, "Yeah. It was great." She looked up and her eyes fell upon Spot's undeniably handsome face, but she quickly looked away when he started to bring his blue eyed gaze to meet her own violet one. "Thank you." She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Spot, in an effort to ease the awkwardness, stood to his feet, motioning to the counter. "I'll be back." He mumbled. She nodded, and leaned back with a sigh as she watched him walk across the room. 


	3. What's With Spot?

Chapter 3 What's With Spot?  
  
Note from the author: If you haven't guessed by now, all of the characters thus far are not any creation of mine-with the exception of petite, violet- eyed Philippa. The others all belong to Disney. Also, don't hesitate to review! I love to hear what you all think. If you've enjoyed it so far let me know! If you haven't-well, let me know, but don't be afraid to soften the blow! Hehe.I know it isn't all that excited yet, but I promise, its getting there!  
  
Yours Fondestly, Meadowlark  
  
What was Phil going to do now? Watching Spot as he paid the cashier for their supper, she got the feeling that she wouldn't get rid of him too easily. What was worse, however, was that she wasn't so sure she wanted to anymore. Her original plan--as dastardly as it may seem--was to use him to get a good meal, then be on her merry little way. That plan had two major flaws from the get go. First off, she was not so cold-hearted as all that, and secondly, Spot was turning out to be a decent guy. He was a little rough around the edges, but so was she.  
  
As Philippa sat pondering over this new prediciment, Spot had finished paying the cashier and was stopping to chat a bit with his friends. They circled around him, wanting to know more about the girl.  
  
"Where'd ya find da new doll, Spot?" Skittery punched him playfully on the shoulder with an unmistakable "You're-a-lucky-guy" grin etched upon his not unhandsome features.  
  
Spot shot Skittery his most intimidating look. No one would disrespect Philippa in his presence. The other boy backed away. Spot was not a big fella. At first glance, some fools might even label him scrawny, but the truth was that Spot could fend for himself and do it well. One didn't become the leader of the Brooklyn newsies without proving themself first. "Don't call her that." He practically growled.  
  
Jack was on his feet and between the two in a matter of seconds. He put an arm chummily about Spot's shoulders to calm him down. "C'mon, Spot. He didn't mean nothin' by it. If the goil's off limits, den just say so." He grinned when he noticed a group of three walking into the establishment. "As fer me..Well, I'se got me own goil." He waved the newcomers over.  
  
"Cowboy!" The youngest of the three exclaimed, running over to Jack. The kid was Les. The other two were David and Sarah, Jack's best friend and girlfiend. The three of them were siblings.  
  
Jack tossled Les' hair. "Heya kid." Sarah and David weren't far behind Les, and Jack siezed Sarah about the waist, hugging her as she kissed his cheek. He released her to turn to David. Both boys spit on their hands and shook in greeting. "How's it goin', Davy?"  
  
"Not too bad. Papa's arm is finally completely healed." David responded, turning to exchange the same handshake with Spot.  
  
"He says they're gonna hafta give him his job back now." Les piped up. At that, Sarah and Davy exchanged worried glances, but neither dared to speak out loud about it. They knew the chances of their father returning to the factory were slim to none.  
  
Jack drew Sarah into another hug. "Don't worry about it, Sweetheart. It'll all woik out." He grinned with reassurance.  
  
At about that time, Davy squinted, seeing Phil across the room where Spot had left her. He couldn't hide the admiration in his voice as he asked. "Who's that? I don't think I've ever seen her before."  
  
"A friend of Spot's." Specs said, his tone a warning one if Davy had ever heard one.  
  
Spot glanced over at Philippa thoughtfully before finally saying, "I think she's a runaway or sumpin', but somebody must still be afta her 'cause she's awful antsy."  
  
Sarah followed Spot's gaze with her own eyes. She took a few steps toward her, feeling almost drawn to her. It was probably because females in this bunch of well-meaning ruffians were few and far between. Without another word, Sarah approached her. "Hi, I'm Sarah." She smiled warmly when she was standing next to the table where Phil sat.  
  
Phil looked up, suddenly brought out of her thoughtful revelry. "Hi..." After another moment, the girl regained her full senses. "I'm Philippa, but you can call me Phil."  
  
"I thought you might like some company."  
  
Phil shrugged casually, though secretly she was anxious to have another girl to talk to for a change. "Sure."  
  
So, Sarah sat down across from her, and they talked amiably for some time. They became fast friends, but though Sarah tried to learn more about Phil, she skillfully avoided answering personal questions. The boys all stayed back, though the curiousity was enough to kill them. If anyone could find out more about her, they knew Sarah could.  
  
It was a little after 8 o' clock by the time, Phil's eyes wandered to the clock that hung on the wall. It was past time for her to have been out of there. Hating to lie to anyone--especially anyone as nice as Sarah seemed to be, Phil reluctantly excused herself to go to the ladies' room. Sarah pointed it out to her, and she forced a smile to her lips as she left the table. She made it a point not to look at Spot as she left the room, but she could feel his gaze upon her until she was out of his sight and into the ladies' restroom.  
  
Sarah soon found herself surrounded by her newsie friends. "What'd she tell ya?What'd ya find out?" They all asked anxiously.  
  
She frowned. "Nothing really. She avoided saying much about herself at all."  
  
"Where'd she go?" David was the one to voice the question plaguing Spot's mind.  
  
Sarah hit David's shoulder lightly. "Must you boys know everything? If you must know, she went to the ladies' room." She scooted over in the booth, allowing Jack to sit down beside her. She was just snuggling into the crook of his arm when Spot suddenly pushed his way through the group of newsies and dashed outside, cursing, "Damn her!"  
  
Race watched him go and shook his head as he looked around at his other buddies and asked what was on everyone's mind. "What's with Spot?" 


	4. Crosswinds

Philippa looked around the small restroom, making sure to peek underneath the stall doors to ensure she was alone. Then, she looked up at her only possible route of escape-the window. She bit her lower lip, realizing that this was going to prove to be quite the task, because the window was a good four feet out of her reach. Her violet eyes scanned the room, searching for something that she could stand on to better reach this window.  
  
Soon, she spotted a few old crates in the corner of the room where a few of the cleaning supplies were kept due to the fact that there wasn't enough space in the storage room. Moving quickly, she moved the crates, stacking them beneath the window. Cautiously, unsure of whether or not they would support her weight, she stepped onto the stair steps of crates. When they proved sturdy enough, she unlatched the pane, peering out to see where it led.  
  
Seeing that it led into an empty alleyway, she grinned, thinking wryly to herself that she never thought she'd be so glad to spend time in another dark alley. She pulled herself up, maneuvering to get out of the window. Even with her petite form it was a bit of a squeeze, but she managed to climb out of the casement, landing on her rump with a soft thud.  
  
Much to the girl's surprise, she found a strong pair of hands lifting her to her feet. "Y'know, it ain't polite to leave without sayin' g'bye." Phil didn't need to turn around to know that the voice and hands belonged to Spot, but he turned her to face him anyway.  
  
She took a deep breath, wondering how she would get out of this one. Spot definitely didn't look as if he appreciated her lying and trying to sneak off. He shook her roughly by the shoulders, and she tried to pull away. "Don't you ever touch me like that again!"  
  
With that, Spot released her, and after a brief hesitation, Phil sprinted off. Spot, not willing to lose anything that easily took pursuit, chasing after her as Phil ran through streets and alleyways. Spot stayed right on her heels as she seemed to be running almost blindly, not seeming to be paying attention to where she was going.  
  
They had been running for quite some time when she stopped so suddenly that Spot ran right into her. Philippa didn't seem to notice, however, for her eyes were trained on the large, somewhat run down building that loomed before them. Above their heads, a sign blew in the wind, looking as if it may very very fall at any given moment. The words "Crosswinds Orphanage: Home to those unwanted souls" were crudely scrawled into it.  
  
Spot frowned, reminded too much of the Refuge to find any comfort before the gates of this building. "What's goin' on, Phil?" He finally asked.  
  
It took her a few moments before she replied, her tone resolute. "I'm going to break in. She stepped closer to the gate.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Spot lurched forward as if to grab her arm but remembered her earlier warning and stopped short, dropping his hand to his side. "Most kids wanna break outta dese places, not into 'em!"  
  
Phil's fingers curved around the wrought iron bars of the gate, which gave the place the look of a prison rather than a place for children. That's when Spot noticed the doors of the orphanage open, and on instinct, he pulled Phil away from the gate, putting a hand over her mouth as she struggled. He held her with her back against his chest and his back against the brick wall that enclosed the orphanage.  
  
Well, if she was so blasted determined, he might as well help her get in there so she wouldn't get caught. He whispered a hurried explanation in her ear, "They'se gonna be openin' da gate in just a sec, I think. Den we'se can sneak inside." Though she looked mildly surprised, Phil ceased her struggling, waiting with him in silence.  
  
Sure enough, the gate was soon creaking open on hinges that sounded as if they hadn't been oiled since they were first installed. A carriage exited with a female passenger who was bedecked in the latest of women's fashions. Once it was past, Spot took Philippa's hand, pulling her hastily through the gate and onto the orphanage grounds just before it was reclosed. They moved toward the building and hid next to the rickety old porch.  
  
When she was sure the coast was clear, Phil stared at Spot, asking, "Why are you doing this?"  
  
He shrugged. "Da way I see it, if'n I wadn't helpin' yas just now, ya'd 'ave been caught fer sure." He took his hat off, placing it instead on her head, pulling it down over her eyes. "Now, will ya tell me why we'se doin' dis?"  
  
She took the hat off of her head but didn't return it to him. Instead, she twisted up her long, chestnut colored hair, tucking it underneath as she places it back on her own head. "Thanks." Her own seemed to gotten lost somewhere between Tibby's and the orphanage. "Not half bad." She mutters, speaking more to herself than to Spot. "They're looking for a girl."  
  
"Den, you'se been here before?"  
  
Phil nodded. "Yes, but now I'm back to get my brother."  
  
Spot smiled to himself. He was beginning to get the details of this mystery, but his smile faded instantly as she advanced toward the steps of the porch. "Hold on here!"  
  
She whirled around to face him, hands on her hips. "What now?" She hissed impatiently.  
  
"Whaddaya plannin' ta do-walk right up der and knock on da door, asking all sweet-like ta get ya brudder back?" You'se already mentioned dey'se lookin' for ya."  
  
Phil started to interject but knew that Spot was right, which only infuriated her. She glared at him, demanding in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what do you suggest, Oh-Great-One?"  
  
To which Spot shrugged his shoulders. "We'se just gonna hafta come back when we'se got the right supplies."  
  
"NO!" That's when Phil did something that surprised the both of them. She sat down and started crying, the tears running freely down her face. This left Spot dumbfounded! He couldn't think of a single thing to do or say. His throat felt parched and his limbs leaden. Finally, he seemed to find his old confidence, and he sat down beside her, trying to slip an arm about her shoulders to comfort her. She wouldn't have it though, not wanting to feel pitied, and she shoved him so hard that he fell on his back a few feet from her.  
  
Pain seared through his left arm, but that didn't affect him half so badly as the bruise to his ego. Spot was furious! He wasn't going to be pushed around like that by anyone-especially not some 'goil'!  
  
When Spot started to walk away, Phil didn't follow. Instead, she called after him, her face set in a proud and stubborn expression, "Fine! I did not need help from you anyway!" Her already unconvincing street dialect seemed to have disappeared and she talked like a girl who had been raised in a more upper class society. She watched as Spot walked to the wall that surrounded the orphanage and blinked. She hadn't believed he would really leave her there on her own. 


	5. Headmaster Grifton

It's just as well. Phil thought to herself. I had planned to do this by myself anyway, and so I shall. On that thought, she turned her back to the direction Spot had gone off in, her eyes searching the area around the building for the best way to carry out her plans. She walked around the establishment, feeling that she knew the building all too well, finding herself eventually at the right side of the building. She looked up at one window, where the light of a single lantern dimly illuminated the room. She knew that before long that light would be put out. How often since her escape had she climbed up the wall, then into the large oak tree where she could peer in at her little brother.  
  
Philippa's face brightened. Of course! The tree! This oak had limbs that reached almost to the window of the room her brother shared with the other boys of the orphanage. If someone were to ask her, she would not be able to tell them how she had climbed the long way up the thick base of the oak's trunk, being driven only by the thought that she must save her baby brother. She came back to herself, finding that she was on a branch level with the window. She carefully moved onto the sturdy-looking limb that branched out, slowly inching herself along it.  
  
She made the mistake of looking down, and her stomach lurched seeing the drop of, at least, twenty feet. She forced her concentration to the window instead. She had to reach it! She heard the branch groan beneath her slight weight and moved back a little, not trusting it as it reached out, growing thinner the farther from the base it got. Still, she was only about five feet from the window.  
  
The girl reached and reached, her desperation growing as she tried to get the attention of someone within the room. Finally, she slumped forward in defeat. She could not even reach the window to tap on the glass. Her eyes welled up with tears. She had failed.  
  
"Try dis."  
  
Phil felt something just barely nudge her back. She arched her neck, frantically wiping at the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. "Spot!" She scooted back toward the base of the tree and, turning as best she could on the branch, threw her arms around his neck in a hug. Never did she think she would be so glad to see that proud smirk of his.  
  
Spot blinked, momentarily speechless, then he found himself, albeit awkwardly, hugging her back. When he did speak, it was gruffly, in an attempt at hiding his own emotions at this sudden display. "Careful 'fore ya make us both fall outta dis tree an' meet our maker."  
  
Phil, realizing that her arms were still about his neck, released him quickly, her eyes lowering. She was thankful for the darkness that prevented him from seeing her blush. She saw Spot's trademark cane resting against one of his legs and knew that must have been what he had used to prod her in the back.  
  
He followed her gaze, then handed the cane to her, muttering something about being careful. Afterall, the cane is one of his two most prized possessions-the other being his slingshot. Phil smiled gratefully, flashing those little white teeth, reminding Spot of one of those pretty porcelain dolls he had seen in department store windows around Christmas time.  
  
Phil moved back out along the branch as far as she dared. Next, holding on to the branch with her right hand, she extended her left, which held the cane. It was just long enough for her to lightly tap on the windowpane. She had to repeat the process four times before a boy finally of about fifteen years opened the window.  
  
"What the--?"  
  
Phil held a finger to her lips. "Its me!" She hissed, then took off the hat and shook her head so that her distinct chestnut hair tumbled down around her face.  
  
The boy recognized her instantly. "Philippa!"  
  
She flashed him another look to remind him to be quiet. "Hi Vinnie." She tried to look past him into the room. "Where's my brother?"  
  
Vinnie shrugged, seeming a little offended that she offered no more than that simple greeting. "Ya know da young ones are put to bed real early."  
  
Phil was beginning to lose her patience, which she had little of to begin with. It was a virtue she had never managed to master. Anyway, she opened her mouth to speak, but it was Spot's voice that she heard instead of her own. "Look here. She sure didn't come ta look at yer ugly mug. So would ya just get da kid?"  
  
Vinnie leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the boy sitting behind Phil, glaring at him. "An' who're you?"  
  
Spot smirked, unconcerned. "Da name is Spot Conlon."  
  
Spot's reputation was widely spread. Vinnie had worked for a time as a newsie in Queens when he had managed to run away once, and he had heard stories of Spot Conlon, notorious leader of the Brooklyn newsies and people who had gotten on his bad side. Vinnie seemed to decide it wasn't worth the trouble seeing if they were true or not, because he backed away, grumbling, "All right. I'll go an' find 'im."  
  
It seemed an eternity to Phil before Vinnie finally returned, though in actuality, it was no more than a few minutes. In tow was a young child, sleepily rubbing his eyes with small fists. Phil felt her heart jump to her throat. "Christopher!" She extended her arms as if to take him into her arms but knew she couldn't reach him.  
  
The child's eyes went wide, the sleepiness replaced by astonishment. "Phiwippa!" He climbed up onto the windowsill.  
  
"Alright. Listen to me. Go get your things. I'm going to-" She glanced back at Spot. "We are going to get you out of here."  
  
Spot watched this scene, noticing that Phil had lost all caution at the sight of her brother. The little boy hurried off to get his things, and the girl started to turn toward Spot. He touched her arm lightly, shaking his head. "Hold still. I knows you'se excited an' all, but it ain't gonna do much good if ya kill yaself a'fore ya get da kid outta here."  
  
Phil sobered up a bit at his reminder, watching the window anxiously. Before long, Christopher had returned with his few belongings, which consisted of nothing more than an extra pair of pants and two shirts, along with a rather worn, obviously well-loved teddy bear.  
  
Spot rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, thinking. However were they going to manage this? He started eyeing the ledge just below the windowsill. Phil, noting how quiet Spot had gotten, followed his gaze.  
  
"I'll do it." She said, instantly thinking the same thing.  
  
Spot frowned. "No. Let me go. It ain't no job for a-." Spot decided that it would be best for him not to continue that sentence. He was going to say that it was no job for a 'goil', but as he had told Jack often enough: He had a brain and more than just half of one. Instead, he told her, "I'd feel terrible if sumpin' should happen to ya. I'se been doin' dis kind a thing fer as long as I can remember."  
  
Reluctantly, Philippa agreed. They proceeded to make the best plan they could under the circumstances. It was decided that Spot would make the leap over to the ledge and would then help Christopher into the tree. Then, the three of them would be out of there. It sounded simple enough.  
  
The first step was for Spot and Phil to trade places on the tree limb, which they managed to do with great caution. Spot stood to his feet holding onto the branch overhead, and it suddenly struck him that he was crazy! If he missed that ledge, he'd be a goner! But there was Phil, her eyes bright and imploring and the admiration in her little brother's eyes was already quite evident. Making sure he was well balanced, he then made the leap.  
  
He was almost an inch short of the ledge, and Phil let out a small scream, screwing her eyes shut, but there was no sickening thud as she had been imagining. Finally, she chanced to open her eyes and saw that Spot's fingers had caught the ledge. Relief washed over her pretty features, and she moved out on the branch to see if she could help. However, the words that she heard whispered through the room within made her blood run cold.  
  
"It's the headmaster! Mr. Grifton!" The boys were whispering frantically, and Phil froze where she was on the branch. Mr Grifton and his wife ran Crosswinds Orphanage and struck terror in the hearts of all who ended up in their care.  
  
Finally, she managed to regain her composure. "Christopher, get away from the window and don't let him see your things!" She watched him scurry out of her sight, and as she had expected, he caught Mr. Grifton's attention, thus giving Spot the chance to climb up onto the ledge.  
  
"You there." Mr. Grifton's voice was low and cold.  
  
Phil heard her brother reply, his voice trembling, "Y-yes, Sir?" "You were supposed to be in bed two hours ago." Phil could hear the click of the headmaster's shoes as he moved closer to Christopher. Just as her brother trembled with fear, Philippa trembled with rage, and from where he was kneeling on the ledge, Spot was beginning to think that he was going to have to restrain her from leaping into the window and punching the man square in the jaw.  
  
The though made Spot smile. She had fire, this girl. It was a brilliant contrast to most girls he knew who were so meek and.boring! They never would have dared to run away from a place like this, let alone be brave enough to return at whatever cost to save someone else from the same fate. Still, at the same time, it irked him. For the first time, Spot may have finally met his match-and it was a blasted girl! Spot cleared the thoughts from his mind, concentrating now on the goings on inside.  
  
"I-I wadn't sleepy." Christopher said quietly.  
  
"That is no excuse!" Both Phil and Spot could see the shadows cast by the lamp, and Grifton's shadow mimicked him as he raised his hand to strike the boy.  
  
"Stop it!" All fell silent, and all too late, Phil's hand flew up to her mouth.  
  
"You'se done it now!" Spot hissed. He slid further down the ledge to keep out of sight, gesturing that she should try to back further into the shelter of the tree's branches, but there wasn't time for that.  
  
The headmaster had rushed to the window at hearing Phil, and now, seeing her, he sneered. "We meet again, Ms. Grant."  
  
She looked at him with contempt, too angry to be frightened. "I cannot say that it is a pleasure." She spoke haughtily.  
  
He ignored the comment, apparently thinking the opposite. "Now, are you going to come in, or am I going to be forced to come out and get you?"  
  
Phil made a feeble attempt at reaching toward the window and told him in her sweetest voice, "Its too far." She knew that for him and his wife to get what they wanted, she and Christopher were required to be safely in their care. "I'll go to the front and you can let me in."  
  
"You'll run off."  
  
Phil became indignant. "I will not. You have my brother, and I will not leave him again. Besides, even if I do, you will be no worse off than you were before. Do you really think you could climb into this tree?"  
  
Some of the boys inside snickered at the thought. Grifton, in spite of his intimidating presence, was not a man in the best of shape. He was a large man in his mid-forties, and the thought of him trying to jump into the tree to catch Philippa was quite comical.  
  
Phil started on down the base of the tree, knowing that Grifton would already be heading anxiously downstairs to the front door. She caught Spot's eye and knew that he understood that she was entrusting her brother to his care. She would play the decoy, giving them the chance to escape. She climbed down the tree, taking her precious time to reach the front door of the building. She had to pretend that she was giving in.  
  
Her mind was racing. She felt confident that her brother would be alright in Spot's care, but how would she get out of there again? She followed Grifton quietly, pretending to be all meek and submissive, while her eyes darted about for a chance of escape. Her gaze fell upon a door that had been left slightly ajar. She recognized it as the door to the 'Isolation Room'. They had kept her there the first week she had been sent there. It was a room with no windows-no way to escape until the came and unlocked the door.  
  
Grifton delayed his steps until his pace matched Philippa's, and he placed a hand on the back of her neck. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl could see the master key that dangled carelessly out of his pants pocket. The headmaster was quite distracted with rambling on delightedly about catching her again. "Of course, we will call the authorities first thing in the morning." However, Philippa could care less about the plans he and his wife had for dipping their grubby hands into the considerable sum left for the care of her brother and herself.  
  
She seized her opportunity and brought her foot up swiftly only to kick him in the shin with all her might. He yelped in pain, and Phil's fingers circled the key, and she slipped it from his pocket, hoping that she was a better thief this time than when she'd stolen the apple that resulted in her meeting Spot earlier. Then, she dashed back through the corridor and into the Isolation Room.  
  
She waited, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest as she closed her eyes, waiting for Grifton to come in after her, praying that her plans would work. Grifton eventually came huffing into the room, snarling, "You little brat!" He had not seemed to notice that she had the key.  
  
For a moment, Phil was frozen there, huddled in a corner of the room, and then she remembered Christopher and just had to try. He ran at her, and using her petite 5'2" build as an advantage over Grifton's bulking form, the girl ducked under his arms, ran from the room, and closed the door behind her.  
  
"That won't keep me for long, You Stupid Girl!" He snorted, as she locked the door just in time. "I have the-." She could hear him yelling and cursing as she walked out the front door. "I'll get you for this, you little wench!" 


	6. Why, I Ought A

Chapter 6: "Why I Ought A."  
  
Philippa grinned as she stepped onto the rickety front porch, pocketing the master key since one never knows when something like that could be of use. She stepped into the front lawn, chuckling to herself, but then she felt something wind about her legs. Instantly, she imagined the worst, but when she finally looked down, what she saw made her feel as if she had just grown wings. It was Christopher.  
  
She picked him up and swung him around, causing the little boy to giggle. In their excitement of being rejoined, neither seemed to remember Spot, who was leaning against a tree trunk nearby. Finally, he caught Phil's eye, and she gestured him over. "I couldn't have done this without you."  
  
He shrugged his shoulders. "It was nothin', but we ain't finished yet neither. We'se gotta wait for that rich snob to get back, so we can get on outta here."  
  
While they waited, Phil told the both of them of her escape from Mr. Grifton, acting it all out with comic accuracy. She was laughing so hard by the end that she fell back on the ground, still holding Christopher.  
  
"You'se got spunk." Spot admitted, "But what now?"  
  
"What now?" She echoed, sitting up.  
  
Spot nodded, crouching down beside them. "Yeah. Where's ya stayin'? What about food an' what-not? Der's two of yas now."  
  
The girl's face fell. She hadn't thought it through very well. Her only concern had been getting her little brother out of the awful place. "I.I don't know."  
  
Spot looked at Christopher, who was now almost asleep in Philippa's lap. He smiled a bit. "What's his name again?"  
  
"Christopher."  
  
"That ain't no good." Spot held up his hands defensively, chuckling as Phil glared at him. "Well, it ain't! Not if you two is gonna be newsies." Spot blinked, surprised at his own words. This girl a newsie? Still, it really wasn't a bad idea. It was the perfect solution to her problems. He continued, "Its too uppity for a newsie; too hoity-toity, ya know?"  
  
Phil shrugged, looking uncertain. "I.guess." In her arms, Christopher stirred, hearing himself being discussed.  
  
Spot mussed the kid's hair. "How 'bout 'Kit'?" He looked to Christopher for approval. "Ya like dat, Kid? How's about we call ya Kit?" "Yeah!" Christopher sat up, grinning at Spot. Then, he yawned, obviously still near sleep.  
  
Phil shifted as if to stand, and Spot offered his hand to help her up. This time she accepted his help, and he pulled her to her feet. He held her hand within his a bit longer than necessary, but released it when there was the clip-clop of horse's hooves on the cobbled street outside the gate. The headmistress was returning; their cue to get out of there.  
  
"Here, I got him." Spot said taking the newly dubbed Kit from Phil before creeping over to wait against the wall, Phil at his side. When it was opened to allow the carriage back in, the small group slipped out breaking into a run for several blocks, just to make sure they were in the clear. They stopped on a street corner to catch their breath. Spot let Phil take the sleeping four year old from him, then told her the plan. "Its too far for ya to walk all da way to Brooklyn dis late, but the newsies' lodgin' house ain't too far from here."  
  
So, Phil let him lead the way to the lodging house where Jack and most of the other Manhattan newsies stayed during the nights. Upon reaching a wobbly looking fire escape at the side of the building, Spot signaled for her to be quiet. She followed as silently as she could with the steps creaking as she carried the sleeping Kit up to the second story window. She watched Spot tap on the pane with his cane. It was Kid Blink who rushed over to open it.  
  
"Heyas Spot. What can we'se do ya for?"  
  
Spot pushed him aside and climbed into the room, holding his arms out to take Kit from Phil to better allow her to get inside. She handed him to Spot, careful not to wake him, then climbed in after them. "Phil and her brudder need a place ta stay fer a while." Spot explained as he laid Kit down on the nearest unoccupied bed.  
  
Phil hadn't quite grasped that this was what Spot had had in mind. A night, sure, but her pride wouldn't allow for her to dare impose further. "We do not!" She spoke up, causing all eyes to focus on her. Snickering could be heard from some boys through the room. This had the potential of being a fairly good show.  
  
"Whaddaya mean ya don't?" Spot demanded. "Ya said so yaself no more'n ten minutes ago that ya need--."  
  
"I am not in the habit of accepting charity." Phil said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
There were more snickers and murmured comments from the newsboys. Many were amazed that someone dared speak in such a manner to Spot Conlon. Others were still more amazed that Spot wasn't doing anything about it.  
  
Spot, far from oblivious of the murmuring around the room, felt his cheeks redden slightly. He knew he needed to do something to maintain his reputation, so he gestured to the window, his voice gruff with anger brought on by his embarrassment. She would make no fool of him! "On da roof- now."  
  
Phil arched a delicate brow at his tone, which was definitely a command verses a request. "I--." She began but stopped, seeing that he didn't plan on taking 'no' as an answer. She groaned, glaring at him. "Oh, fine!"  
  
Haughtily, she brushed past him, hopping gracefully out of the window and onto the fire escape, but as Spot stepped out after her, she glanced back at her brother, who was still asleep.  
  
Jack stepped forward before she could voice any misgivings. "Don'tcha worry none 'bout ya brudder. We'll make sure he's alright. Right, boys?"  
  
"Right." Racetrack was the first to agree. He moved to the window, looking out. "An' if ya needs anything." But the rest of his words were lost because Spot had already ushered her toward the roof.  
  
Some of the boys joined Race at the window, trying to ease their curiosity by eavesdropping, but Jack was quick to steer them away from it, leaving it open just enough so that the pair could let themselves back in when they so chose. "Give 'em their 'privicy'."  
  
When they had reached the roof, Spot looked hard at Philippa. "What are ya thinkin'?!"  
  
"I already told you. Philippa Grant needs no help or charity from anyone." She said in that same cool tone.  
  
"Charity?" Spot looked at her with an expression of disbelief. "It ain't charity! I'se just tryin' ta do somethin' nice!"  
  
Phil gave a toss of her head, setting her jaw firmly. These actions reminded Spot of an untamed pony he had seen one time when he had snuck into a circus. "I thank you for the thought, but I will not be accepting." She told him, hair falling into her face.  
  
Spot threw up his hands in utter exhasperation. "Why do ya gotta be so stubborn?"  
  
"Me?" She threw back at him. "What about you? If anyone is stubborn, its you!"  
  
Both of them had reached boiling point now. They each held in an intense gaze, neither willing to be the first to back down. Obviously, they were equally stubborn-not to mention proud. "Why I ought a."  
  
"What? You ought a what?!" Phil yelled in return.  
  
Spot could take no more of this. That unnervingly stubborn squaring of her jaw, the way wisps of hair fell into her face.In one swift movement, he pulled her close to him and pressed his lips to hers in a sudden, passionate kiss. 


	7. The Broom Closet, The Street Rat, and Th...

Chapter 7: The Broom Closet, The Street Rat, and The Heiress  
  
Phil pulled away, gaping at Spot, and for one painful moment, he was certain that she was going to slap him and tell him to get lost. Instead, he found her leaning forward so that her eyes were focused downward with her forehead pressed against his chest.  
  
It took a while for Spot to find his voice again. When he did, he was horrified to find that he was stammering. "A-are ya alright?" He placed a hand tentatively on her mid-back. He was certain that she could hear the hammering of his heart as he waited anxiously for her to look at him.  
  
Eventually, she trailed her violet eyes to his face. "Yes," She spoke very softly. Hints of a smile tugged at the corners of her crooked mouth. "At least, I think so."  
  
Spot ran a hand through his sandy hair nervously, and he was appalled to feel his cheeks grow warm again. (Phil, on the other hand, secretly thought to herself how cute it was.) "Yeah.I.Well.I'se sorry an' all. I prob'ly shouldn't 'ave kis--."  
  
She pressed a fingertip to his lips. "Don't worry about it." She allowed her lips to brush over his cheek, and then moved casually to the fire escape. "I guess we had best head back inside." She grabbed onto the railing and proceeded down the steps to the window, leaving Spot standing there, starry-eyed for a moment before coming back to his senses and trailing after her.  
  
"Where's Spot?" One boy asked as Phil stepped in through the window. She recalled that he was called Dutchy and watched as he craned his neck to try to see past her.  
  
The girl laughed. "You act as though you thought I pushed him off of the roof!" She turned, gesturing just as Spot entered the room.  
  
Spot's heart did flip-flops as he looked upon her smiling face. Did all that just took place mean that she was his goil? Unsurprisingly, Spot had had more girlfriends than he could count, but none of them had lasted long. He eventually would lose interest in them because they all seemed the same to him, but this Phil was like no one he could fathom. She was pretty, but he had seen girls that were more so. Then again, none had her big grayish violet eyes surrounded by the silken fringe of her eyelashes or that crooked, little smile.  
  
Spot was startled from his musings when Jack slapped him on the back. "Get things settled?" He flashed the other lad a knowing grin.  
  
Spot observed that some of the other boys were trying to hear his response too, so he decided to play it off real nonchalant. "You forget who you'se talking to Jacky-Boy. A'course I settled ever'thing." Secretly, he was glad that Philippa was across the room and out of earshot with Racetrack, Specs, Skittery, and Kid Blink. He wasn't sure he was ready to tempt her wrath again. Inwardly, he groaned. He had faced all sorts of scabbers, but he felt defenseless against a simple female!  
  
Race was trying to persuade the girl to be the fourth in a game of poker since Skittery seemed to be out due to lack of funds.  
  
"I shouldn't." She protested.  
  
"If ya don't know how ta play, den we'se can teach ya." Specs said amiably.  
  
Spot chuckled, seeing even across the room, how Phil's eyes flashed in that defiant fashion that was becoming quite familiar to him. He watched as she sat down between Race and Kid Blink, saying, "I know how to play poker."  
  
The guys made the assumption that it'd be an easy game, and in a way, they were not mistaken. It hadn't been more than ten minutes when Phil won the first game.  
  
"Aw, beginners luck." Blink commented.  
  
Within another half hour or so, Phil had all of the poker chips piled in front of her and had drawn in quite an audience as well.  
  
Race ran a hand over his forehead. "I'se gonna have ta take ya to Sheepshed sometime."  
  
"Sheepshed?"  
  
Kid Blink put an arm around Phil's shoulders as if they'd been friends all of their lives. Surprisingly, she found that she didn't mind. She liked the newsies. They may have been a rowdy bunch, but she had a feeling that they were all sort of diamonds in the rough. "We call him Racetrack 'cause dat's where he is most 'a da time." He explained.  
  
By this time, Spot had moved to sit on a nearby bottom bunk, and Phil got up to lie on the width of the bed beside him, resting on her stomach. With every attempt at subtlety, he placed a hand on the small of her back.  
  
Boots looked to the girl. "So, where're ya from?"  
  
She hesitated a moment before answering, uncertain that she was ready to reveal more about herself. "Santa Fe, New Mexico."  
  
Jack was all ears now. "Santa Fe?" He asked in disbelief.  
  
She nodded. "Well, that's where we were most of the time. My parents were entrepreneurs with the railroad."  
  
"Santa Fe is da best place in da world." Jack sighed, taking out an old comic book based on that very city. Jack was infatuated with this place to which he'd never actually been.  
  
Phil shrugged her slender shoulders. "It isn't bad, but it isn't like it is portrayed in that comic book either."  
  
"Is that where ya learned to play poker?" The boy dubbed Pie Eater asked.  
  
Phil tilted her head to smile at Spot, who was now lightly rubbing her back, before answering. "Yeah. When my parents went away sometimes on business, they'd have Christopher and me stay at this saloon where there was this really nice lady. Her name was." The girl paused to think. "Medda. Medda Larkson."  
  
There was a moment of silence as all of the boys looked at each other. "Medda Larkson?!" They all exclaimed in unison.  
  
"You know her?"  
  
"We'se all her biggest fans." Race told her.  
  
Spot looked at her with those cyan blue eyes. "Jack here could take ya to see Medda tomorrow after he sells his papes if ya want."  
  
"Now don't go speakin' fer me, Spot." Jack smiled charismatically at Phil. "Unfortunately, I'se got me a date wit' me goil, Sarah." He laughed, correcting himself. "Well, not exactly unfortunate, but I wouldn't be able ta take ya to Medda's. Of course, one of me boys--." There was no need for Jack to continue because several of the boys were already volunteering.  
  
"Me an' Medda go way back." Race was saying.  
  
"I was plannin' ta go see 'er anyway." Another lad piped up.  
  
Phil was sitting up on the bed now, getting ready to move closer to Spot when Kid Blink and Skittery sat down on either side of her. "We'se could take ya." Skittery slyly slid an arm around her shoulders. Phil noticed that Skittery had made sure to get the place on her left-farthest from Spot. Apparently, his earlier run in with the Brooklyn leader at Tibby's had left him, at least, a little wiser.  
  
Blink, sadly, was not so smooth. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he found himself on the floor at her feet. Spot had given him a fierce push off of the bed. Before Blink had time to do more than glower in return, one of the boys had peeked out of the door and now turned to them, exclaiming in a whisper, "Kloppman's coming!"  
  
Everything happened so quickly that Phil wasn't sure what was going on. She saw Spot grab her little brother from the bed where he'd been sleeping while she was ushered into a broom closet. Spot and Kit were pushed in after her. She opened her mouth to say something, but Spot put his thumb against her lips, shaking his head.  
  
"Shhh. We ain't exactly s'posed ta be here." He leaned close to murmur in her ear.  
  
She could feel his breath against her cheek, and if Kit hadn't started to awaken at that exact moment, they may have shared their second kiss. That was the moment that the child happened to wake up, however, and not only that, but the little boy was awakening in rather awkward circumstances. It was quite dark in the broom closet, and he was frightened. The older two heard his small whimper, and Spot clamped a hand over his mouth-a bit roughly-but whispered to him, "We'se gots ta be quiet, but its okay. Your sister's here even."  
  
Phil took the little lad from Spot's arms, and he fell silent, cuddling against her. His fears vanishing as he remembered that he was no longer at Crosswinds. In the bunk room, they could hear Crutchy talking to Kloppman, the man that ran the Newsboys' Lodging House. Crutchy was the best when it came to talking to adults. Some might go as far as to call him a brown noser, but at times like this, it came in handy.  
  
Apparently, Kloppman had decided that while he was upstairs checking on the boys, he should get out the broom and sweep up some of the dirt that the boys had brought in from outside when they had returned from work that evening.  
  
While most of the newsies looked around nervously, sure that the friends were caught, Crutchy was his usual chipper self. "Gee, Mr. Kloppman, Lemme do it. Us boys don't do enough around here."  
  
Kloppman hesitated. Crutchy was a poor crippled boy after all, but the elderly man justified that maybe Crutchy was right. It wouldn't hurt the boys to help out a bit more. "Alright, Crutchy, but if its too difficult, you make sure to get some help, ya hear?"  
  
A goofy grin spread over Crutchy's face. "Sure thing, Mr. Kloppman, Sir!" He grabbed up his single crutch and hobbled after the older gentleman, staying at the top of the stairs until he was certain he had headed for his own room. "See ya in da mornin', Mr. Kloppman!"  
  
Only when Jack saw Crutchy heading back from the hallway, did he signal for one boy, Snoddy, to open the broom closet. "Sorry 'bout that." Snoddy muttered.  
  
All of the newsies seemed quite concerned about Phil, asking whether she was all right and apologizing, as she walked out carrying Christopher. She set her brother down as Crutchy limped back in. She walked to Crutchy and kissed his cheek. "Thanks Crutchy. That was great! If it hadn't been for your quick thinking, we might all have been in trouble."  
  
Crutchy's eyes went wide, and his hand flew up to the place on his cheek that the girl's lips had touched. He blushed. "Aw, it was nothin'. I'se just glad I could help."  
  
She turned to the other boys. "And thanks to the rest of you as well."  
  
"What?" Mush pretended to be offended. "Da rests of us don't get a smooch too?"  
  
Phil laughed softly, giving Mush a playful shove. While this exchange had been taking place, Jack had approached Kit. He now kneeled down to be at the child's level. "How old are ya, Kid?"  
  
The little boy held up four fingers. "Dis many."  
  
"Four, eh?" Jack mused, mulling over in his mind what a good gimmick a kid so young would be for selling newspapers. He looked to Philippa. "So, are ya plannin' on sellin' papes?"  
  
The girl admitted that she had been considering it, but wasn't really sure. Everyone looked to Spot, sensing that much of her decision depended on him.  
  
"Are ya goin' back ta Brooklyn tonight, Spot?"  
  
"Are ya tryin' ta get rid of me, Specs?" Spot demanded.  
  
"No, no. Not at all, Spot." Specs said quickly, seeing the menacing expression Spot wore.  
  
Spot calmed down a bit and shrugged. "I'd prob'ly betta."  
  
Phil glanced at him worriedly. "It's getting late. Are you sure you should go now?"  
  
No. thought Spot, but aloud he said, "Yeah." Too many of the guys were getting chummy with Phil, but he felt he had no right to say anything, thus staying here was bound to drive him insane. He had no official claim on her after all. "Goils!" He muttered under his breath.  
  
"What was that?" Phil asked as she walked over to join him again.  
  
Spot blinked, realizing too late that he had spoken out loud. "Oh, I was just thinkin' dat I'se better be getting' back 'cause me own boys'll be lost without me for so long, ya know."  
  
Phil had a time of it trying to hide her disappointment. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "Oh. Well, I guess you had better then." What right had she to protest? They had kissed, that was all. It didn't necessarily mean anything.  
  
Spot made to climb out of the window, and before he'd barely even gotten one leg out of the window, one of the boys was asking Phil if she'd go selling papes with him the next day. It took every ounce of Spot's self- control not to leap back inside and give the guy a good soakin'.  
  
Jack leaned close to Phil to suggest, "Why don't ya walk Spot down? I'll keep an eye on your little brudda fer ya."  
  
"But--."  
  
"Go on." He gave her a gentle push toward the window, knowing that Spot must be completely and utterly smitten with the girl, considering how he had modified his behavior.  
  
Phil called down to Spot, who was already halfway down the fire escape. "Wait!" Spot turned. "I'll.I'll walk you down."  
  
Spot couldn't help but smile. "Thanks." He waited for her to catch up, and they took slow steps downward to reach the alleyway.  
  
When they reached the bottom, the both remained silent for a long moment until Phil finally asked, "When will I be seeing you again?"  
  
Spot kicked at a pebble with his foot. "A few days. Prob'ly a week or so." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'se gotta make a livin'."  
  
Phile sighed, again doing her best to hide her disappointment. She nodded, "Yeah. Me too, until I can find a way to get my money."  
  
Spot raised an eyebrow. "What money?"  
  
Phil bit down on her bottom lip. Should she tell him? She decided that she would. "I already told you that my parents were railroad entrepreneurs, right?" Spot nodded. "Well, when Mama and Papa died, they left $20,000 to be used for my care and another $20,000 to be used for the care of Christopher."  
  
Spot gaped at her, coming to the realization that she must have really lived in the uppermost crust of society. Doubts then flooded his mind. He was a fool to think that she could have like him! He was no more than a street rat while she was the heiress to an amazing sum of money.  
  
Phil reached as if to take his hand, but he recoiled. "I hafta go 'fore it gets any later." With that, he walked off, leaving Phil to stand there alone, wondering what she had done wrong. 


	8. Late Night Confidante

A/N: I know this chapter is considerably shorter than most of the others, but it was one of those important things that didn't quite fit anywhere else, so I gave it it's own little chapter. Just an added reminder, please don't hesitate to review if you read this or submit any suggestions. Any predictions on what's going to/should happen next?  
  
Fondestly, MeadowLark  
  
Chapter 8: Late Night Confidante  
  
With a heavy heart, Phil slowly walked up the fire escape and climbed back into the open window, closing it behind her. Some of the guys attempted to strike up conversation with the girl or to get her involved in one final game of poker before hitting the sack, but she seemed almost as if she didn't notice them at all. She merely would shake her head and mumble something about being too tired.  
  
"Where will I sleep?" She asked Jack, standing over him as he wrestled playfully on the floor with her kid brother.  
  
Jack laughed, letting Kit tackle him to the ground as he looked up at Phil. "I don't tink me boys would mind if ya took ya pick! But." He pointed to an empty bed next to where Crutchy was laying. "You an' da kid can have that one der."  
  
Absently, she picked Kit up off of the floor, carrying him to the bed in spite of his protests. "It is past time for bed." She told him sternly, starting to tuck him in. She placed the single pillow under his head, kissing his brow.  
  
"Otay." The little one said, resignedly. "But will you sing me our wullaby?"  
  
"Of course." She brushed back some of his hair from his face as she obliged. Her singing voice was very wonderful, soft and sweet as the hauntingly alluring lullaby flowed through the room. Kit gave up trying to fight sleep, and his eyes closed as he drifted into the land of dreams.  
  
Phil finished the lullaby and curled up with her head on the other end of the bed. Race tossed her his pillow, which she promptly threw back, assuring him that she was fine without one. She laid awake, staring at the mattress and springs above her head.  
  
Crutchy watched her for a while from the next bed, observing how she, unlike her brother and several of the other newsies, was not succumbing so easily to slumber. Finally, he spoke up, "Sorry ta bodder ya, Phil, but ya seem to be in a less den pleasant mood since ya got back from outside. Is ever'ting all right?"  
  
"Its alright, Crutchy." She sighed, rolling onto her side and propping her head on one hand to better see him.  
  
"Der anyting I can do?"  
  
She shook her head. "I'm not even sure what's wrong myself."  
  
The last of the boys were climbing into bed by now, aware that they had to be up plenty early the next morning. Phil climbed out of bed, moving to sit at the foot of Crutchy's, needing to confide in someone. "What do you think of Spot?"  
  
"Spot? Oh, he's a great guy-a little tough one dough." Crutchy grinned. "But what do you tink of 'im?"  
  
Phil felt the blood rush to her face, giving her cheeks a ruddy glow in the semi-darkness. "I-Well, I like him, and I thought he liked me too." She runs a hand through her dark brown hair. "But he left without so much as a goodbye."  
  
Crutchy thought on that a bit, a frown creasing his features. "Dat ain't like Spot. Leastways, not when a goil is involved."  
  
Phil yawned. "I guess I had better get to bed. I'm sorry for keeping you up so late. I know you have to get up early."  
  
He gave a little chuckle and grinned. "So do you'se! Anyway, it wadn't no problem."  
  
Phil got up, walking the few feet it took to get to the bed she was sharing with Kit. She climbed slowly into bed, curling up like she had been before, trying not to disturb his sleeping. After she'd gotten settled, she spoke softly, "Crutchy?"  
  
"Yeah, Phil?"  
  
"Can we keep what I told you just between us?"  
  
"Sure, sure. Your secret's safe wit me."  
  
Phil barely heard his reply, already falling the next captive to the world where dreams reside. 


End file.
